


some place close to you

by walkthegale



Category: Holby City
Genre: Berena Appreciation Week, Established Relationship, F/F, Hotel Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reading, Smut, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 09:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11575332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkthegale/pseuds/walkthegale
Summary: Relaxation doesn't come naturally to Bernie, but Serena likes a challenge.





	some place close to you

**Author's Note:**

> For [Berena Appreciation Week](http://ddagent.tumblr.com/post/163052130665/ddagent-its-berena-appreciation-week-so), Day 6. Prompt: _Smut_.

“What are you reading?”

Bernie peers up at her, squinting in the evening sun, and shows her the iPad screen.

“Berenice Wolfe! We’re on holiday! You promised!”

Bernie adjusts her straw hat. “And I am relaxing, just like I promised. A bit of light reading never hurt anyone.” She settles back into her chair as though she's won.

“ _Prevention of incisional hernia with prophylactic onlay and sublay mesh reinforcement versus primary suture only in midline laparotomies._ ”

“You should read it when i’ve finished. There are some really interesting…” She trails off as Serena glares.

“It’s work.”

“Fine.” Bernie sets her mouth into a thin line and gestures at the worn paperback Serena’s holding. “What are you reading, then?”

“It's a historical romance,” Serena tells her smugly. “Utter, sumptuous, sensual trash.”

“It's got a scalpel on the cover.”

“The main character is a doctor.”

“Ha, so it _is_ about medicine!”

Serena rolls her eyes. “You're not seriously trying compare it to you reading an article in The Lancet. Besides,” she grins wickedly all of a sudden, “it's about lesbians!”

Bernie bursts out laughing. Serena can’t decide, for a moment, whether she should be offended, but Bernie’s laugh is always infectious, and she finds herself laughing too.

“I’ll have you know,” Serena wipes tears from the corners of her eyes and tries to calm down, “that it’s a fascinating story. With some extremely… interesting… ideas.”

“Oh-ho, really?” Bernie is still grinning, but her attention is caught despite herself. Her iPad, with its stash of serious medical journals, is forgotten on the table next to her, and she reaches out and whips the book from Serena’s hand. She flips it open to Serena’s bookmarked page and starts to read aloud. “ _Margaret gasped as Lillian unlaced her corset, her opulent breasts spilling out. Lillian kissed her porcelain skin_ … goodness, really? Porcelain skin? Opulent breasts?”

Serena refuses to be self-conscious. “All right, all right, so the prose is a tad purple, but look.” She takes the book back and flicks through it until she find what she’s searching for, and hands it back to Bernie. “Try this bit.”

Bernie scans the page silently for a minute and her eyes widen. “Oh. Gosh. I see.” Another moment, and Serena notices that Bernie’s cheeks have turned a little pink. “Well, isn’t that a creative use for a shawl? I mean, Margaret certainly seems to be enjoying having her hands tied like that…”

“Mmm, doesn’t she,” Serena purrs, leaning over Bernie and bracing her hands on either arm of the chair, her breasts threatening to escape from the low-cut beach dress she had thrown on over her bikini earlier by the pool. She plucks Bernie’s hat from her head and drops it onto the table.

Bernie catches her eye, then looks back at the page, schooling her face into an expression of intense concentration. “Can’t you see I’m busy, Campbell? I don’t know what you think you’re do...ing.” Her voice breaks on the last word, as Serena climbs into her lap, straddling her thighs, silently sending her thanks to the hotel gods for private balconies and comfortable outdoor seating that’s just about big enough to accommodate them both.

“By all means,” Serena tells her, her voice low. “Carry on. The last thing I’d want to do is distract you.” She trails her fingers over Bernie’s stomach, feeling her muscles twitch under the thin fabric of her swimming costume.

Bernie’s still holding the book up between them, still looking at it resolutely, and Serena can see the spark of challenge in her eyes. “Good, yes, I think I’ll finish this chapter. I really must know what Lillian is going to do to Margaret next.”

Serena stretches with exaggerated languor, “Of course, darling, don’t let me stop you.” She leans back far enough to pull the dress over her head and discard it on the ground next to them. “Isn’t it nice that it’s still so warm this late in the day.”

Bernie gives a tight nod, and a slightly strangled noise of assent, her eyes flickering between the book in front of her and Serena, who makes a show of running her hands over her own bikini-clad breasts in passing, her own nipples hardening against her palms.

“So where have you got to?” Serena keeps her tone light and innocent.

“Lillian is very, um, talented with her tongue.”

“Oh I do enjoy that part. It's so… descriptive.” Serena lifts herself out of Bernie’s lap, ignoring them the slight whimper of protest that floats out from behind the book. She drops to her knees on the warm tile floor and nudges Bernie’s legs apart to settle herself between them. A kiss placed on Bernie's inner thigh draws a quiet whine and a shifting of hips, though Bernie doesn't take her eyes off the page.

“Don't mind me,” Serena tells her, kissing her other thigh. “I’m sure Lillian and Margaret can't wait.”

“They're definitely very,” Bernie draws in a sharp breath as Serena noses at her, featherlight but insistent, “um, engaging. It’s, uh, it’s fascinating, really.”

“Isn't it?” Serena hums, pulling Bernie’s swimming costume gently aside and breathing in the heady scent of her. “Maybe we should take some notes?” She lowers her head and gives a delicate, experimental lick. Bernie’s wet already, and she cants towards Serena and lets out a sound halfway between a gasp and a moan, but she doesn’t put down the book, she doesn’t look up.

Serena narrows her eyes, and a predatory smile spreads across her face. _Right_.

She spreads Bernie’s labia with her hand, and drags the flat of her tongue along the length of her, circling her clit and then licking her way back to dip into her entrance. Bernie rolls her hips and groans, a deep, desperate sound, and when Serena glances up, she’s still holding onto the book with one hand, but the other is rigid next to her, nails digging into the fabric of the chair.

Serena sets to again with gusto, losing herself in the taste and smell of Bernie, in the constant stream of delicious moans and whimpers she’s drawing from her. She slides one finger inside her, then another, and the ensuing cry makes her hope vaguely that none of the neighbours are out on their terraces on this fine evening. Sucking Bernie’s clit into her mouth and teasing it with the tip of her tongue, she suddenly feels Bernie’s hand tangling in her hair. She looks up again and spots that the book has finally been put aside, and Bernie’s eyes are closed, her head thrown back and her body arching off the seat.

Serena curls her fingers inside of Bernie, savouring heat and slippery softness, and licks with gradually increasing speed and pressure as Bernie begins to buck her hips beneath her. This, Serena thinks, this is perfect. This moment in time, where nothing else matters.

Bernie comes hard, with Serena’s name on her lips, and Serena can feel her shudder against her mouth, fluttering around her fingers.

In the aftermath, Serena slides her fingers out slowly, and drops small kisses onto Bernie’s soft, damp curls. Bernie blinks sleepily and smiles down at her.

“You might have to help me up,” Serena admits with a sheepish grin. “The floor isn’t terribly forgiving, and my knees are killing me!”

Laughing, Bernie offers her a hand, and gathers Serena back into her lap, where they wrap their arms around each other and cuddle close.

“So,” says Bernie, after a while, not quite looking at Serena. “That thing Margaret and Lillian were doing with the shawl, and the, uh, tying. Do you, um, do you think we could…um, maybe…”

Serena smirks and lets her dangle for a moment, thoroughly enjoying being the cause of Bernie Wolfe’s complete loss for words. She kisses Bernie’s cheek. “There’s nothing I would like more,” she tells her. “But I think we should move this inside - we’ve already given the other guests quite the audio display this evening.”

Bernie flushes a deep and beautiful crimson, and Serena snickers, and they disentangle themselves, and Serena follows Bernie’s gorgeous, semi-naked form into their hotel room, where another whole night in a frankly enormous bed awaits them. She could really get used to this holiday business.


End file.
